The Language of Sunflowers
by Mockingtale
Summary: Scorned by Naru, beaten down; betrayed, Yamanaka Ino seeks strength in a sudden recruitment by ANBU. There, she is drawn to the mysterious Uchiha Itachi and the intriguing politics of murderers. ItachixInoxShika. Re-upload from 2011 for archiving purposes. Written under Themis Decima.
1. Prologue

Hi, I'm uploading this because I've had requests regarding this story and its deletion. This story was written when I was like, 14. For reference, I'm in college now. It's a little embarrassing but also a little fascinating seeing the _child_ I was in high school. Anyway, for your viewing pleasure; the raw, unedited _The Language of Sunflowers_ by _Themis Decima_.

 **The Language Of Sunflowers**

 **Prologue: The Sunflower Gesture**

 _Themis Decima does not own Naruto. She does however, own this story_

Metaphorical storm clouds swirled around Itachi Uchiha's head as he stormed down Dōbutsu Street, raven ponytail flapping behind him. The sun was blazing high in the sky, but its glaring rays were blocked by the wooden-and-stone walls of the shop houses on either side of the broad street. There weren't many people wandering the many floral shops of Dōbutsu Street (hence it's name), but there weren't very few people either. Pockets of lively villagers thronged here and then but there were still some areas that looked pityingly desolate and empty.

The Uchiha Clan heir was currently dressed in his civilian attire; black cloth rustled and smoothed over lean muscle as he moved masterfully and swiftly. He wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere of course- maybe away from the curious shoppers of the street but his primary objective was to make his way towards the edge of the village, where his favorite and most isolated training ground was located.

He was intending to rip out a few trees, maybe wreck a hole in the ground. Heck, maybe even take out his fury on a few fools who were lucky enough to be there but all he cared about was draining the anger and energy out of him so that he could return to God knows where to sleep. Not back to the Uchiha Compound of course. No no no _no no_ , he would _tear_ the faces off those senile Elders if he ever caught sight of them. How _dare_ they- How _DARE_ they just _SUGGEST_ that he abandon his brother like that! _Oh Itachi-san, we think you're spending too much time with your brother and not on your training and therefore we're going to separate the both of you. Hope you're not too pissed, Ja!_

Okaa-sama looked absolutely stunned when she heard the Elders say that. Otou-sama looked absolutely bored when he heard the Elders say that. Itachi had merely stood up, bowed and walked out of the room.  
So now as he stormed down Dōbutsu Street, terrified passers-by steering the hell out of his way, he felt beyond annoyed when he felt the chakra signature of a kunoichi chasing after him. He had no time for fangirls especially one- as he could sense, who had an aura of bossiness that clung to her as she jogged towards him.

He slowed down with a sigh, letting his anger sink and simmer just below the surface. Okaa-sama had always emphasized on being a gentleman, no matter who the person was or how much you disliked him or her, everybody deserved respect.

Yes, even fangirls. The things he did for his mother…

This fangirl who was marching up to him was probably one of those confident ones who proclaimed their love to him on a daily basis in _public_ or told him how unordinary and ugly he was, hoping with all their love novel-addled brains and confused hearts that he would be "shocked" at their 'bold' statements and think them "interesting". Come on, what was this? Fanfiction?

"Oi you! Ponytail!"

 _And thus the degrading of my self-esteem starts…_

"You owe me 17 bucks! And I'm through with your 'my-mother-is-in-the-hospital' stories!"

 _That is new-What?!_

He stopped and swiveled around to meet the glare of blue crystalline eyes of an apron-wearing teen, with her long platinum blonde hair tied up into a high ponytail and a long fringe partially covering her left eye, her face was flushed in anger as she waved a bunch of sunflowers in the air.

She froze in her tracks the moment his onyx eye met hers, his eyebrow raised… and he didn't know that a human being could turn red like that.

"U-Uchiha-san!" she stuttered out, sunflowers in mid-air. He caught her blue eyes wander over his muscular torso for awhile before she gulped and met his eyes again. He smirked slightly.

"I-I-I mistook you for someone else, gomenasai!" she blurted out before bowing down deeply. Itachi's expression merely grew more amused by the minute (not openly of course. Hello? Uchiha, duh) – no one had ever mistook him for somebody else before.

Meanwhile, the blonde straightened up with a hesitant look on her face, her eyes looking down at nothing in particular as she bit her lip. It was at that moment that Itachi recognized her as Ino Yamanaka, one of the genin that graduated along with his otouto. If memory served him right (and his was _excellent_ , thank you very much), she was now a chunin.

Well, Ino Yamanaka had grown quite gracefully.

The Yamanaka heir was biting her lip currently, before she suddenly reached out to pluck a dainty yellow sunflower from the bunch she was holding. Itachi took it instinctively from her offering hand, noting the furious blush on her cheeks. Ino gazed up at him and bright blue connected with black before shying away hurriedly. Itachi felt a tingle run up his spine.

Suddenly, as if possessed by a sudden surge of confidence, the platinum blonde's head snapped up to look at him before grinning brightly.

"Would you mind…putting a smile on your face?"

Itachi blinked. _Sorry?_

Ino Yamanaka merely led out a nervous chuckle, "It's Kindness Week! And since I was giving out these bunch of flowers anyway…". At this, the blonde florist simply bowed before walking away.

The Uchiha Clan heir however, stood there stunned in the middle of Dōbutsu Street, staring after the retreating back of the Yamanaka Clan heir. As he stared at the dainty miniature sunflower in his hand, tingles went up his fingers and spine.

Then the ever stoic Uchiha Clan heir broke tradition by saying a very non-cool word.

 _Wow_.

 **This is a REWRITE! Chapter Two shall contain the rest of the original chapter. Why am I rewriting so early into the story? Well, I read the first chapter (and the only chapter, thank god) and it didn't make any sense. So… rewrite!**

 **Expect another chapter by… End of this month? I'm not sure, I have stuff going on including a MikotoUchiha art competiton on deviantART and I need to write another chapter of my 'The Importance Of Being A Wallflower' (which, btw, is a major disaster** **)**

 **I love reviews! Review please! Tell me how it is and whether this rewrite is better! (or worse? O.O)**

 **Cupcakes and Cookies~ 3  
~Decima**


	2. Chapter 1

**Of Gods and Monsters**

 **Chapter 1: Yellow**

 **Part 1: His Silhouette**

The water streaked down the glass in cold tears, frosting it with mist. The window itself was cold, and the sky outside was overcast and grey, crowded with mourning storm clouds.

It was freezing. The ice. The ice crept over her lips, clawed her arms and wrenched at her face. The ice. The ice was so cold, _it was so cold_.

The grey light flooded the large, empty space, dominated only by the outline of the enormous entrance gate. Shadow and light streaked and darted, side by side under the cold, grey light, dancing about around the village's entrance gate, and beyond that, she could only see fog and shadow.

Lightning flashed, and she shuddered, dragging a clammy hand across her numb face. Gone, she felt listless, despair to the point of emptiness. She was exhausted, so exhausted, just _tired_ of it all, and yet – _No_.

 _No._ Look behind. Just a peek, just a glance. Don't I– didn't I–

Didn't I mean anything to you?

But still nothing, only the shape of his back, moving further and further away from her, towards the village's gates and away from the village. The constant shape of his silhouette, never altering, surrounded by a swirl of rain and fog. _The constant shape_.

 _He's not looking back_.

Grief rushed up her throat, scratching at her insides until she choked, stuttered and a fresh round of tears sprang to her eyes. She clawed her pale hands at her face, willing the pain, the _regret_ to just go away. The ice. It was so cold. Oh god, oh god.

 _Go away. Go away!_

 _Brown eyes, liquid pools of warmth, frozen in shock._

 _Go away. Leave!_

 _That lazy, handsome face, more familiar to her than anyone else. That face which had weathered the years and pain with her, the trials of hardship and friendship, she watched as that face seized up with pain, before anger, like a shade, shuttered over it._

 _Won't you let me explain? He had asked._

 _She had stopped shrieking at him abruptly, looking at him with damp, widened eyes, blue like the sky. She had paused to consider. And yet – He had explained. So many, many times. And she was tired of it, exhausted of his excuses._

 _Won't you let me explain?_

 _No, she had said, as steadily as she could, although it meant that it was over, that they were over._

 _Maybe I should let him explain, some distant part of her mind had suggested. Maybe it would be reasonable. But was it not always reasonable, his excuses? She had tried to persuade herself to let it go, as if nothing was happening, as if they were the perfect couple._

 _As if he didn't love somebody else._

 _No, she had said._

 _I want you to leave._

So now that was that, he was leaving, and as a thin sheet of grey slowly clouded over him, he never turned back, not even once. Rain swallowed up his silhouette, and Ino covered her face and cried.

 **Part 2: The Dark Lady**

She sifted the sand between her listless fingers, her face pale and drawn. Yellow hair that once shined a lustrous silver-gold now merely hung lank from her scalp, and her once clear eyes were now a muddy blue, rimmed with red. Lips were cracked and dry, the once easily flappable tongue silent for months.

The sand flowed like white water from her long fingers, landing lushly into the pot, before halting abruptly. Earth was dumped into the pot, and soon, like a thoughtless machine, Ino churned the mixture with a shovel.

She felt nothing now.

Her tears had been exhausted, as had those sleepless nights pervaded by nightmares and haunting thoughts. Finally concerned, her parents had forced her to seek a solution for those sleepless nights.

Using her medical nin certification, she had prescribed herself sleeping pills.

Now the only time she looked forward to was at night, when she could finally sleep dreamlessly. When she couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't dream. She was drifting in some nameless fog of grey, floating, bereft of all feeling and awareness. People walked past her without sound, their words deadened hums to her numbed mind, and they watched as Yamanaka Ino drifted about the village, becoming pale and sallow as she looked without recognition.

Like she was dead.

He had meant so much to her. Yamanaka Ino treasured only three things in her life: her village, her family and friends, and him.

Somewhere in her mind, she knew she was being pathetic, being that foolish, _stupid, stupid_ girl. Was she not a shinobi? She was not a mewling child anymore, cooing over heart-shaped love letters. There were bigger things than her heartbreak over him, like the security of the village, her duties as heir and medic nin. But he had meant _so much_ to her. She had loved him, trusted him implicitly, considered and planned for how they were going to settle down and start a family. He had watched over her for her entire life, and it was _him_ that made her who she was, _him_ that made her grow up, _him_ that motivated her as a shinobi.

He _made_ her.

What would she be without him? He had built her, the building blocks that made up Yamanaka Ino were mostly placed by him.

He was supposed to love her too.

Didn't he tell her that once? I love you too, Ino. Didn't he say that once? He did, he _did_ , and it probably meant nothing to him then. Was it all a lie? Did the man she loved, loved her back simply because he was obligated too? Perhaps it was her fault, it was her fault that she was too forceful, too suffocating, if she had only lightened up, then maybe he would not have gone over to _her_.

It was her fault. This was all Ino's fault.

The shovel stabbed mechanically into the mixture repeatedly, shifting white sand into folds of dirt. Idly, her thoughts wandered to the small, innocent bottle of white pills sitting on her drawer in her room. She yearned to finish this tiresome task and retreat back into her room, where she would swallow those merciful sleeping pills that drowned her into an emotionless sleep. She was tired, just so _tired_ , and yet why couldn't she let go? Why won't she just let him go?

She can't.

Weak.

Pathetic.

She barely heard the chime of the bells, nor the soft sound of the wooden door opening. A figure glided serenely into the shop and stood patiently in the large space surrounded by shelves of flowers, facing the counter where Ino herself stood. Lank, yellow hair parted from her eyes to look up into the watching face of Uchiha Mikoto. Serene, waiting and looking lovely even in a beige pinafore and black dress. Ino stopped her movements and stared briefly into the woman's eyes. "May I help you, Uchiha-san?"

A smile widened on her face. "Yes, I believe so. The Uchiha is holding a large event, and I wish for some assistance regarding the fauna." Ino pushed the pot away from her. _Décor designing_ , she thought hollowly, _too much effort and energy_ , she would be forced to run around the village running errands. "I will get my mother," Ino said coolly, and made to slink away, but Uchiha Mikoto stopped her with a firm "No."

"I would prefer Ino-san to perform this task instead."

 _No_ , thought Ino tiredly, _I really don't want to_. But she was drained of energy to argue, and besides, it would be rude to refuse the Uchiha matriarch. "I am afraid I will not be able to perform the task with optimum standards, Uchiha-san," she tried in one last shot, but Mikoto hummed, already dismissing Ino's argument as her eyes flashed, even though she was still smiling. "Well then, pity, I suppose I would have to make sure you do, won't I?"

There was something dark layered in that statement, something almost threatening. Ino instantly withdrew any intentions to argue further, spotting the dark look in Mikoto's gleaming eyes. The Uchiha matriarch was a figure of silent strength, even when dressed so simply, and she was a figure of authority and respect, as seen in the outline of her slim shoulders and sleek, jet black hair. "Of course," Ino said resignedly, "may I know what this event is about…?"

"A wedding," Mikoto stated simply, and Ino jolted as if slapped in the face. A wedding! How fine! People would be laughing, happy… in love. Married. Forever. A promise to be with each other till death did them part...

How ironic. "I see," Ino said in resignation, her blue eyes glittered dully. "Who is the lucky couple?"

Mikoto smiled serenely, a mysterious light dancing within her dark eyes. "Aburame Shino and Uchiha Mitsuki."

Shino! Shino was getting married! This piece of information slapped her out of her dead feeling, and she felt some life flood into her face as her eyes widened. Shino? Shino the bug guy? Shino the quiet one with the glasses from Team 8? Shino!

"I! I– I didn't hear about that!" Ino exclaimed, shocked, her yellow hair fluttered about her as she took a sudden step back and raised a too thin wrist to her heart, where it pulsed in maddened fashion. Mikoto merely continued smiling mysteriously as her dark eyes flashed almost, strangely– accusingly. "You haven't been rather participative in village events, dear."

Ino heard what the dark-haired woman said, but did not know how to respond, so she said nothing, pretending not to have heard. A thought floated across her mind; how withdrawn had she been from the village? How isolated had she been?

She raised her dull eyes to meet the mysterious dark ones of the Uchiha matriarch, now sparked with some semblance of sentience, the blue seemed just a shade brighter, and the older woman smiled inwardly.

"I… I will come to the compound later in the evening, to discuss the plans?" she stated, although it sounded more like a question. Mikoto's smile widened just a fraction when the blonde in front of her took initiative, finally showing some signs of her once vibrant personality.

"Then dinner," the dark-haired woman said airily. Outside, the daylight spilled into the shop and outlined her dark silhouette, long midnight-silk hair framing her fair face, lined with strength. Then Ino watched, stunned, as if stupefied by the lady, as Uchiha Mikoto glided royally out of the shop, and her shape disappearing, the simple pinafore and dress, into the streets of Konohagakure.

 **Part 3: Rook**

Whisper, whisper, whisper.

Really, sometimes their voices carried under her skin and crawled around her neck. Six years, six years in that place working as a paper pusher and you'd think she would have grown used to their hushed voices bleeding through the walls. They were bodiless, and never, ever understandable, wafting through the air like some unpleasant scent.

She shoved red hair behind her ear, wiping non-existential sweat from her brow with cold, clammy hands. Sometimes, she wished she could be like Akira, purposely ignorant and shamelessly plugging in his clunky radio, letting loud music clog the air. Then perhaps, only then she could shove away the uneasy feeling that stroked at her whenever she sat in this dim, cold place, where messy mounds of paper were spread around her, their small, black print sometimes pricking at her eyes, and the light above her shone coldly and cruelly. God, she hated this place.

She couldn't wait to process the stack of forms in front of her, the only neat pile among a sea of carelessly tossed white. Then she would shove another pile into her large, cloth bag, hook it up onto her shoulder and stride out of this place, where she would then flee to her cozy apartment and let the smell of steaming tea drift temptingly over her.

Six years. Ha! As if that made any difference, if only, her clearance level simply became the highest, and she was awarded the title of senior executive, but besides that, nothing, not even an assistant to help her with her task, not even a damned working coffee machine in the lounge. She regretted it sometimes, working as only one of the six non-shinobi officers in ANBU. The paperwork, _that goddamned paperwork_ , and not only that, there was the logistics which made her scream and pound at the wall sometimes, and the _investigations_. Dear god, whenever they had to investigate a certain somebody, the folks down at the Academy demanded a detailed paper trail going back ten years, and a detailed perspective on the subject's history. It may have sounded easy whenever some asshat pulled out a wad of documents from a neat, yellow package to begin some mission briefing, but the effort it took to access those documents were… frustrating.

That was an understatement. Really, sometimes she felt as if she had taken a really, very wrong turn in life: Underappreciated and underpaid, the classical standards of working class misery.

Quick fingers unsheathed a sheet of paper and she gave out a loud sigh when she recognized what it was. It was a politely-worded letter from the intelligence agency in Suna, requesting that at least some of Konoha's efforts be redirected to a strange case of mysteriously stricken villagers in a border village straddling the lines between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind.

Politely- _worded_ was the key thing. If they had been any blunter, they would have accompanied it with a middle finger. Ai sighed, and just as she was about to toss the paper into some unnamed pile, a statement struck out at her.

"… the village used to be the shrine to the Mokuzai Scroll, before it was stolen half a decade ago. Despite the loss of the scroll, the village still continues to be an important asset…"

Blah blah blah blah, Ai thought, but her fingers lingered above the words 'Mokuzai Scroll'. 'Mokuzai Scroll', the scroll of Wood and one of the legendary Six Scrolls of the Sage of Six Paths. Bullshit myths, Ai thought, the kind where if 'one gathers all the scrolls and some bibbity-bobbity boo, could gain the power of the legendary Sage'. It was all nonsense, with the scrolls of Wind and Iron already lost to the vestiges of history.

But still, wasn't the scroll of Water stolen three decades ago? It had caused an uproar then, but myths, as all fairytales do, eventually faded in time, as did their importance.

"… hallucinations, paranoia, high fever, rapidly thinning blood and in some extreme cases, deteriorating brain tissue. The patients are void of feeling."

Ai's skin chilled. Didn't an ANBU agent die with those symptoms two weeks ago? He had been rushed from the capital because those doctors there were witless to help him. She hurriedly dug through the piles of paper, carelessly pushing down the white stacks as the memories of the photographs rushed through her head. The man, with blood running down his chin from his nose, and his skin purpling, yet still claimed to not feel anything. Malaria, they said, as they hooked him up to the IV while she stood there waiting to interview him. Well, it couldn't be poison, his superior had said, because he had watched that little squint twenty-four hours a day on guard duty, and he shared the same meals as the rest of them.

Well, then how can it be bloody malaria? She had shot back impetuously at him. You guys were smack in the middle of Capital, how the hell did he get malaria?

Hell if I know, that infuriating agent had said back coolly. It's probably an isolated case.

Or not, thought Ai, as she surveyed the papers in front of her. Frustrated, she pushed her hair away from her face. It was probably just coincidence. Still, she knew that there had been some mafia activity there, and the occasional missing-nin popping out… Waaaaait at minute.

She stood up from her chair, and stared down disbelievingly at the papers. She had seen the signs before, a pattern… there was a pattern. Goddamn it!

"Kaito!" she yelled from her desk, "Kaito! Get me a damn continent map!"

As she strode briskly from the room, at the back of her mind, she compiled a list of ninja she wanted for an assignment, she knew she definitely wanted one shinobi though.

Uchiha Itachi.


	3. Chapter 2

**Of Gods and Monsters**

 **Chapter 2**

 **White**

 **Part 1: Rinse**

Mikoto hummed as she sprinkled white pepper into the frothing mass of carrots and starch. A quick flick of her wrist sent sea salt pattering into the concoction, and soon she was delighting in the satisfying scent of boiling broth. A small smile slid across her face as she noted down her guests who would be attending dinner. She'd have to make something special.

Coincidentally, a rustle of cloth signalled the approach of a guest. A small face, bird-like and delicate in nature, appeared by her side, peering curiously into the pot. She threw a quick smile at the youthful face of Uchiha Mitsuki, who timidly lifted up the corners of her mouth in return.

Young, plain and homely, Mikoto noted. Mitsuki was her niece by marriage and blessed with kindly brown eyes and a penchant for homemaking. Homely, dutiful Mitsuki would make a most ideal housewife for the Aburame. It was a match that threw many people by surprise; the quiet, seemingly fathomless young man of the Aburame, second cousin of the Aburame heir proposing sudden marriage to sweet, sheltered Mitsuki, cousin of the Uchiha heir. It was very suspicious, some had murmured, unaware that the two had been courting quietly for several months, and those that murmured had even hissed that perhaps sweet Mitsuki was part of a ploy to snatch the Sharingan from the Uchiha.

Mitsuki's father, young Hideki, had put his foot politely but firmly down. He may have been immature from his older brother by nearly a decade, with the essence of innocent youth still lingering about his face, but Fugaku's younger brother commanded authority when he wanted to, and he had made it quite clear that the personal affairs of his family were not to be interfered with by the fancies of nosy elders. Mikoto had agreed, gently affirming her position on the matter, and with that, all dissent was quietened.

Even after centuries, many in the Uchiha still upheld the belief in holding fast to the old ways, the old paranoia. Mikoto merely shook her head.

She heard the soft sounds of gentle Mitsuki taking out the plates and cutlery, voluntarily helping her host in readying dinner. By right, as the wife of the head of the Uchiha, Mikoto was entitled to a mansion, to servants and maids and all matter of upper-class luxuries; but times had changed, and modesty was an obligatory virtue in Konohagakure. In a ninja village, regardless of wealth, all ninja and civilians were expected to share the same generalized status: neither rich nor poor– the middle class, the non-indulgent– and all were glad to. Besides, she couldn't stand the thought of people doing everything for her. That wasn't how she was raised, and she damn well would not let her sons be any different.

The front door rang, and Mitsuki called from the dining room that she would answer. There was an exclaimed greeting that announced the presence of Yamanaka Ino and Mitsuki's own fiancée. At the mention of the Yamanaka girl, a grin flitted across Mikoto's face.

Yamanaka Ino. She recalled with faint amusement the vivacious, assertive little girl with eyes of afternoon blue and a love for flowers, who used to chase her own little Sasuke and demanded (not blushed) for her son's affection. Oh, she used to laugh about that! She had seen a gorgeous little girl grow up, in hopes that the girl would become a woman, but to her disappointment, she had watched the girl remain a girl; beautiful, but superficial– shallow, restricted only to her own imaginings of romances set in books. Silently, Mikoto had turned her gaze away… until now.

When she had heard that the niece of the Yamanaka heir had suffered a bitter break up with her boyfriend, the heir to the Nara, she had dismissed it, uninterested in frivolous gossip, until she had strolled past Yamanaka Ino one day and was horrified to see the young girl so haggard and destroyed. She may not have admired Yamanaka Ino, but Uchiha Mikoto was not heartless, and she found it a disgusting waste to see one with so much potential so lost without guidance. Mikoto had resolved to step in. She hated seeing potential go to waste.

Uchiha Mitsuki stepped into the kitchen, her posture humble, but her eyes were warm as she looked adoringly at her fiancée who had also stepped inside, his shades still on. A flash of white gold told Mikoto that Ino had stepped into the kitchen too, and with a warm smile on her fair face, Mikoto turned down the flames on the stove and turned around.

Inwardly, the dark-haired matriarch was pleased. Yamanaka Ino had kept to her manners and etiquette when visiting someone's house, no longer sporting her shabby outfit and haggard hair. She looked clean and neat, dressed in a fresh lilac dress, but her face was still closed and sombre, her colour disturbingly washed out.

Aburame Shino bowed his head respectfully. He had a certain stillness to him, inherent in all the Aburame: living, placid trees that were home to their insects. Stiffness and affability tugged at his limbs with every movement and straightened his ramrod back. Mikoto merely smiled magnanimously and urged the couple with bright, gracious words to roam the compound's gardens. As the stoic Aburame left, with his quiet bride's fingers wrapped around his arm, Mikoto turned her warm smile to Yamanaka Ino.

"Good evening, Uchiha-san," Ino greeted courteously, raising eyes of bleached blue to connect cordially with her client's. There was a sense of unwillingness that hazed Ino's closed face; a note of detest that pressed her chapped lips tightly together. Mikoto's lovely face merely continued being serene, a peacefulness that leaned towards dreaminess. She graciously chose to be oblivious to the blonde's discontent.

"Mikoto-san," the dark lady corrected firmly, pleasantness radiating from her being. There was a sense of strained patience beneath that veneer however, for Mikoto was a practical woman who still saw the trivialities of youth and broken infatuation as foolish. Ino noticed, despite her emotional fatigue, but under the haze of dazed exhaustion, she did not care. White gold hair swept over her shoulder and loose strands floated near piercing eyes of bleached blue, weary and muted. Ino merely nodded blearily, attention fragmenting. "When would you like to discuss the arrangements for the wedding?"

"Perhaps over dinner," Mikoto answered, gesturing to her pot. The dying grey light outside cast itself into the kitchen from the open windows, painting everything in a tint of gloom. The sun would be setting soon, and Mikoto knew its dying rays would soon splash the grey sky with red. Ino nodded, and Mikoto took the chance and jumped at the opportunity. "Please, how terrible of me, but could you help me with dinner?"

The question was polite and said in a tone that conveyed an appropriate amount of sheepishness, but Mikoto was never anything but unapologetic in her every action, and her dark eyes still glittered with a strange light as she waited for Ino's answer. "Of course," Ino said, her voice weak and frail, her head bowed. She wandered, like a grey ghost further into Mikoto's kitchen.

Maybe it would be best to keep her away from the knives.

"You don't have to do much. Just keep stirring the pot, will you? I don't want the broth to start becoming mushy."

Ino dragged her feet to the pot, raising one arm mechanically to grasp the wooden ladle. She tried to be polite– even through her fatigue– tried to put some strength into her arms to stir the goddamn broth, but she just… _couldn't_. She just wanted to _go home_ , to take her sleeping pills and for the whole entire world to just _go away._

The scent of herbs and carrots engulfed her together with the hot steam that rose from the pot. It made her face clammy and hot, and the irritation the foggy heat brought to her seemed to nudge her slightly into liveliness. Mikoto watched from where she was readying the food and silently approved. Cooking had always been therapeutic for her, maybe it would help Yamanaka Ino a little too.

The matriarch was about to turn back to her task when movement and the flitting of a shadow caught her eye. Mother's instinct immediately pointed out that her eldest son, Itachi, had returned home. "Son," she paused her task to turn around to face him fully, her lovely heart-shaped face genuinely delighted to see him.

Itachi did not smile, but the edges of his lips tilted up slightly and his eyes twinkled. He had always loved his mother the most, with the exception of his little brother. Mikoto Uchiha had always stood behind him with unwavering support, even in front of his father, and even in front of the elders.

"Good evening, mother." He then jerked his head back questioningly, towards the oblivious Yamanaka Ino who was listless and lost in her own world. He raised a dark eyebrow, his handsome face a dilution of scepticism and amusement.

Mikoto looked at him warningly and pressed two dishes into his hands. "Make yourself useful," she retorted to his dark, barely perceptible smirk. He was about to sweep out of the kitchen when a movement caught his eye.

In a flash, Itachi darted, his figure barely a blur as he caught a fainted Yamanaka Ino in his arms. Mikoto looked down to see the dishes in her outstretched hands. She blinked, slightly shocked before hurriedly setting down the plates and rushing towards her son.

Yamanaka Ino's hair was a dull, dark yellow that flowed over his arms, and her pale face was gaunt and tired. He could sense a stir of chakra pulsing within her, and knew she was alright but merely exhausted. Mikoto laid a hand on Ino's forehead and confirmed what Itachi already knew.

"Bring her to the guest room, Itachi. Call Mitsuki here, and get me the box of nutrition pills."

Itachi nodded and left, his dark brows furrowing.

Mikoto sighed when her eldest left. She had a feeling he did not like Yamanaka Ino very much. He was a little like her, she mused with a smile playing upon her lips: no-nonsense, with very little respect for those involved in so much drama.

But Itachi had never had his heart broken before, nor had he ever fallen in love. She wondered what would happen if that day came.

 **Part 2: Rook**

The blood had turned slimy, dried red goop dripping heavily onto the floor. Pale, white fingers curled into a loose fist, the arm splayed across the bed, stark white and ghastly.

His eyes were glazed and wide open.

She clicked her pen once, the sound a distraction in the quiet atmosphere. Then she clicked it rapidly multiple times in agitation.

Her companion, a man with light, sand-coloured hair, glanced her way with a puzzled expression, a large clipboard in his hands and wielding a pen. Kaito stood with her by the side of the bed, where rapidly drying blood, oozing the smell of rust and metal was puddled on the floor, streaked across the bed in sickening brushstrokes and splattered on the cheek of the bed's occupant. The young man lay sprawled against his bed sheets, his head lolled to the side and eyes disturbingly empty.

"Murder or accident?" Kaito edged towards her subtly, his voice lowered questioningly. Outside, they could hear a guard telling a curious neighbour about an unfortunate 'incident', and that it was 'all under control'.

Ai sighed and rubbed her temples with her forefinger and thumb, copper hair glinting dully under the light. The Konoha sigil blazed proudly on the dead man's shoulder, tattooed in black; the mark of all Konoha ANBU shinobi. She stared at him for a brief moment, thoughts twisting and rapidly formulating in her head.

"Get me his captain," she finally ordered exasperatedly, turning away from the sight. The smell of curdling blood was like lances piercing her nostrils.

It took a mere quarter of an hour for them to turn around to find, much to their chagrin and shock, the towering figure of an ANBU captain right behind them, like some pop-out picture from a book, armed with two twin swords strapped to his back. Honey eyes looked coldly at them from behind an emotionless eagle mask, the standard stark porcelain white.

Ai resisted scolding the ANBU captain, running tanned fingers through her short copper hair as she tried not to show how ruffled and startled she was by his sudden appearance. Goddamn shinobi. They liked to show off.

"You requested my presence," the masked man said in a flat monotone. He did not glance even once at his comrade lying dead and rotting on the bed, but his tall body, heavily muscled and strong, betrayed the agitation that he felt. Ai did not care, shoving away all politeness and etiquette as she proceeded to interrogate the man.

"You are this man's captain, correct?" Honey eyes darted sharply to his subordinate's face before snapping back with a trained coldness to her face. Ai did her best not to flinch, but the icy fury reflected in his eyes sent an electric thrill of terror down her spine. The tables suddenly turned and now she felt wary of the man before her. She felt her hands grow cold as they were drained of warmth. Murderous. This captain was terribly angry at losing his comrade. "That is correct," his voice was still a robotic monotone, but now there was a razor-sharp edge as his anger seeped through.

Ai waved a hand vaguely towards the dead man's body, struggling to put on a cool, professional front against the anxiety she felt when she forced herself to face this shinobi. "Badger recently came back from a two-week S-rank last night, together with a team which you supervised. In the report you sent this morning, you documented that Badger had suffered from severe chakra exhaustion and a gash to his head. You had advised him to go to the hospital to seek treatment."

"That is correct," the shinobi replied, his tone with a hint of frostiness. Next to her, she felt Kaito edge slowly away. She felt a rise of irritation at that, with a hint of panic. What was he doing?

"Could you please explain to me why he is now currently dead from what the medics have told me: blood loss and severe chakra exhaustion?"

The captain shifted suddenly, and Ai stepped instinctively back. He looked angry enough to strike her.

"He was probably too pig-headed to take my advice."

"Right, right," Ai conceded hastily, her voice broke a little with nervousness. She cleared her throat, fingers gripping her clipboard anxiously. "You may go now. Thank you for your time."

The captain turned and darted off, out of the window and onto the rooftops of Konoha. Ai turned quizzically to her colleague, who, to her surprise, was holding a walkie-talkie. She raised questioning green eyes to his and he shrugged shamelessly. "He looked like he was going to be violent."

Both of them looked out of the window where the captain had disappeared, thinking. Finally, Kaito said out loud what was on their minds. "No one dies from chakra exhaustion. You either stop using your chakra, or you die. What the hell happened?"

Ai, with her green eyes still looking thoughtfully out the window, shrugged and leaned her body towards her colleague. Her mind was still on the bizarre fury displayed by the eagle-masked shinobi, and his sharp, honey eyes. "That captain, what was that all about?"

Kaito shrugged, the sunlight lancing through his sand-coloured hair and making it bright. "Beats me."


	4. Chapter 3

**A huge, HUGE apology to everyone. I've just graduated from secondary, and now I'm in Pre-U! Yay! I'm trying to settle down, what with an upgrade in my subjects and homework and whatnot. Since I'm in Pre-U, I'm also trying to clinch a scholarship and the reason why I've been so silent lately is because I am currently trying to enter a prestigious writing program hosted by the national university (NUS). I'm currently endeavoring to build up my portfolio. So, apologies!**

 **Now, here's a rough timeline:**

 **Yes, Ino is largely involved with Mitsuki's wedding, so you'll see lots of that. Things we will cover will be…**

 **Politics in the Uchiha**

 **Itachi's own personality and his work in ANBU**

 **The relationship between Sakura and Ino**

 **Ino's own final induction into ANBU and her character change**

 **Beta by**

 **Of Gods and Monsters**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Raven**

She woke up to a pounding head and waves of white-blond hair splayed across her face. Lifting her heavy head, she winced as pain blossomed in her head like slow, sonorous beats of a hammer to steel. She supported her body on her thin arms, her yellow hair streaming in straight, dull lines down her face and shielding her eyes. Ino forced herself into a kneeling position, her torso stiff as a wooden board and moved long fingers to brush her hair and sleep out of her face.

She stifled a groan when she saw the dark room she was in. Night had thrown her surroundings into shadow, and she could barely discern the silhouette of the furniture in the room. An oval mirror hung high on the wall opposite her, and a tiny amount of shock jolted through her.

Her room did not have an oval mirror. She had a vanity instead. Where the hell was she?

Panic had started to flare within her, aggravating her pounding headache. She resisted the wooden stiffness that gripped her joints like restraints as she turned around, trying to survey her environment, but she could not see clearly. Her eyes felt like wool in their sockets, and her sight was blurred, as if she was seeing underwater and all vision was distorted. She struggled to lift her cold hands to her face, her fingers felt like plastic and the sensations of touch felt skewered and unreal. Sleep and fatigue clung to her like thick cobwebs, but there was a jarring feeling of being displaced. Even her tongue felt alien in her mouth.

She summoned chakra into her hands, letting the green glow surge into her palms and diffuse away the numbness that manacled her arms with a buzzing pins-and-needles sensation. She pressed her palms against her eyes, hoping to restore the clearness of her sight with medical chakra.

An iron hand wrapped around her wrist.

A shriek rose in her throat, only for her mouth to be clamped shut by a hard hand. She cursed her slowness as she threw a clumsy punch in the vague direction of her attacker's face, only to be rewarded by her attacker swiftly removing the hand from her mouth before deftly wrapping around her wrists like steel cuffs.

A jolt of foreign chakra shocked the nerves in her hands, and terror mounted within her when her arms fell heavily to her sides, lifeless.

She turned her head to glare at her attacker, ready to leap up and combat him with her feet, but as sky blue met glinting onyx, her heart leapt into her throat.

Followed by abrupt shame.

"I-Itachi-san," Ino gasped breathlessly, heat surging to her cheeks. Memories surfaced like pooling water and she remembered to her great embarrassment that she was in the Uchiha house.

Oh dear god! Did she fall asleep in a client's house? The Uchiha clan nonetheless! And what about Mikoto-san? Oh, she brought shame upon her family!

Looking into the Uchiha heir's dark eyes, she could not bring herself to look away from his stare. He was tall, with a slender, sinewy build and a darkly, handsome face. Uchiha Itachi was six years her elder at 26, and he had the look of a man with his well-defined jaw and eyes that spoke of experience. There was something rather unnerving about his eyes, thought Ino the longer she stared. They were black, analytical and constantly watchful, constantly thinking and constantly planning.

This was a man that did not rest, and as Ino saw the strange light dancing within his pupils as she did with Mikoto-san, she knew that this was a man who had many secrets.

"My a-apologies, Itachi-san," she stuttered, bowing her head as she scurried upwards. Tiredness still dragged her limbs and she stumbled as she straightened, nearly pitching face-first forward. Throughout her struggle, Uchiha Itachi watched her without intervening, his mood intense and unfriendly.

 _Oh, he doesn't like me_ , she thought with a sinking heart, and deepened her bow.

"I confess I do not know how I could possibly have fallen asleep."

"Asleep?" His dark voice was smooth and sunk in the shadows. "Yamanaka-san, I'm afraid you did not sleep. Rather, you caused my mother a lot of anxiety when you fainted in her kitchen."

Horrified embarrassment crawled up her face at that, and red grew on her cheeks. Fainted? Oh god, she _fainted_ in a _client's house_?

"I apologise! I- I will go apologize to Mikoto-san before I leave-"

"Leave?"

The door opened and light flooded in, revealing the figure of the Uchiha matriarch herself. She had removed her apron, and was now clad in a plum blouse and red skirt, with her long mane of jet-black hair ever neat and shiny down her back. She looked every bit the impeccable mother and lady of her clan and now she was regarding Ino with stern, disapproving eyes.

"Leave?' She questioned once more, "But Mitsuki still needs flowers for her wedding, dear. I hope you haven't chosen to abandon her. She would be quite upset, as will her fiancée."

Ino blinked, flustered, and started to stutter, shaking her head vigorously. Now under the light, she could see that her pretty lilac dress was crumpled and bunched in unflattering places, and she tugged on the hem self-consciously. "I really am sorry, Mikoto-san," she apologized, her voice small and frightened like a child. "I do not know why I fainted, but are you sure Mitsuki-san and Shino-san still want my family's services?"

" _Your_ services, dear," Mikoto assured her warmly, trying to get the blonde in front of her to lose that child-like fear. Where was the girl who jutted out her chin and had ice fire rage in her eyes? The girl who spoke out of turn and was not afraid to face up to her mistakes? Gone, apparently. Oh my, heartbreak _does_ break other things.

"Mitsuki is still as enthusiastic about your flowers, Ino-san. Don't worry about that. Oh, and I _do_ know why you fainted, Ino dear," her smile widened sharply. "Safe to say, I have placed word to Tsunade-sama, and besides revoking your medical license, she wishes to see you at 9 on the morning after tomorrow."

Mortification choked Ino's throat and her eyes widened. "Excuse me?" Her tone was unintentionally sharp as she blurted, before she realized her mistake and blushed, lowering her head in apology. "I mean, I mean, why?"

"Because okaa-san happens to be a medic-nin too," Itachi interrupted coolly from the corner where he was standing. "And during her assessment of you, she concluded that all your symptoms showed that your body was encountering issues absorbing nutrients, and a significant loss in your blood platelet count. From your dark under-eyes and your constant fatigue, okaa-san concluded that you were taking sleeping pills."

"Too much sleeping pills," Mikoto said sweetly. "I confirmed your sleeping pill use with your parents just now. You fainted due to overdose over a long period."

Overdose? She… had been overdosing herself? Mikoto's statement echoed in her mind and her head snapped up as her mouth dropped open in horror. Oh god, Mikoto had told her _parents_?

Before she had time to form a proper response, Itachi stepped forward, an arm behind his back as he gestured towards Ino while facing his mother. "Maybe I should escort Ino-san back home."

Ino's head snapped towards him at that, her yellow hair flew as it whipped across her face. "No," Ino said firmly, the strength of her tone surprising even her. All dark heads turned towards her in surprise. "No, is Mitsuki-san still here? I would feel terrible if I went back home without Mitsuki-san having even chosen her flowers."

Unbidden, a warm smile spread across Mikoto's face, and her fair, lovely face looked even lovelier, framed by raven locks. "Mitsuki is in the living room. She was quite worried about you actually. Come, she will be glad to choose her floral arrangements." Mikoto raised her arm to welcome Ino to step out of the dark room, something she gladly accepted with hunched shoulders and eyes drawn to the floor. She was still embarrassed about her predicament, and tried not to flinch as her eyes were forced to rapidly adapt to the change in lighting.

Mikoto pointed Ino to a nearby bathroom so that she could fix her appearance first. Once Ino, flustered, had stumbled into the bathroom, Itachi who had been silent and hovering at the edges finally turned to his mother with an enquiring look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Mikoto retorted, not looking at her son. Itachi raised a dark eyebrow and persisted, only for Mikoto to finally turn to him and grip his chin in a scolding, motherly fashion. "You'll understand one day."

At this, Itachi raised both eyebrows in a rare show of surprise. "I'm not following."

But Mikoto only answered with a serene smile, and Itachi furrowed his dark eyebrows in disapproval. "I sincerely hope you're not planning to match-make me to Miss Yamanaka."

Itachi watched as his mother blinked and turn to him with genuine surprise on her face. "I wasn't planning that," but her eyes and smile suddenly turned wickedly mischievous, and her dark eyes glittered. "But I could do that if you want."

Outwardly, Itachi was not impressed, but inwardly, he knew his mother was capable of such… transgressions. How did you think Uchiha Mitsuki and Aburame Shino ended up falling in love?

"No," he replied with polite curtness, "I really do not want that."

Mikoto only laughed.

 **~0~**

"Well, tough luck then, because I need that autopsy report NOW and so they can shove all their pending cases backwards, because this is a PRIORITY ORDER," she snapped into the face of the dumbstruck nurse behind the reception desk. The orange-haired nurse blinked, before quickly gathering her wits about her and opening her mouth to argue, her brow furrowed in offense.

"Okay, what part about ' _sent from the Hokage's office'_ don't you get?" Ai interrupted brashly, fingers clawing into the wooden surface, ready to lunge over the reception counter and strangle the life out of the dim-witted nurse. Ai's shoulders were raised and her back was hunched, her stance both signifying her immense irritation and verging hostility.

The body of the dead ANBU, Badger, had been sent to the morgue for a forensic autopsy. After much deliberation with her collegue, Kaito, and discussion with Morino Ibiki, they had decided to open a small-scale investigation into Badger's death. People did not suddenly hemorrhage after experiencing a large loss in chakra. They collapsed, or they died after forcefully expending and wholly depleting their reserves. The end. That's it.

If Badger had died of foul play, they would then be forced to expand their investigation to encapsulate his comrades as well, but if Badger had died of complicated, perfectly natural causes due to perfectly explainable reasons, he would become a cautionary tale and she'd just consider him another investigation done. But if Badger had died due to unknown circumstances, they would either investigate further or be forced to file him away as a cold case while putting ANBU shinobi on temporary high alert.

Nonetheless, she was hoping it was the second option. She was not just an ANBU internal affairs investigator, dammit, she had other files and documents to do. She was one of the only six logistical and administrative civilian officers who were in charge of ANBU's clerical work. Considering ANBU, she had a damn huge workload.

"Miss, we just can't put our other cases on hold simply because ANBU has a body they want to hurry up. That's unfair and could be seen as unethical preferential treatment-"

"I am _not_ asking for 'preferential treatment'! I only seek the morgue's understanding that this is a pending investigation regarding his death. It's not like I'm asking you to drop what you're doing and hop on to his body! I'm only asking that he be shifted as a _priority case_ up the very, very long queue!"

"Miss-"

Long, hard arms wrapped around her waist and she gasped in shock as she was lifted bodily and placed to the side like a store mannequin. Ai watched as a man with a shock of silver hair and his face partially covered by a black mask, lean over the counter and start to talk in low, lazy baritones to the nurse with a charming smile in his eyes.

Ai blinked, her mouth opening in shock and fury as she sucked in a huge breath. She leveled a scorching glare at the back of his head, wishing that it would drill into his skull.

Hatake Kakashi continued flirting with the nurse, while she blushed and stuttered at having to deal with this well-known ninja. Subconsciously, the nurse flipped her long hair over her shoulder, and Ai fumed, finally turning on her heel and stalking out of the morgue's reception area.

God, she hated ninjas.

After awhile of storming down streets and forming furious proclamations inside her head, she decided, with a sort of angry rationality, that since it was lunch time and she was having such a terrible day, she would treat herself to a nice lunch and an even better ice cream. Oh, screw ninja!

As she entered the diner, a figure slipped from the crowd behind her and she groaned inwardly. She walked towards the booth with the figure following her with all manner of casualty, and as she sat down, he slid into the seat opposite her.

She glared at Hatake Kakashi. He crinkled his eye back at her.

"Don't be jealous."

Jealous?! Hah! As if! She felt like taking a plank and beating him upside down with it.

Although, she admitted to herself, he probably would not feel anything.

"So what did the nurse say?" she plunged immediately right into the subject matter, partially determined to get her work over and done with and partially still angry with the man in front of her. Ai's copper hair shone a strange red, the color of dried blood as she leaned eagerly forward with her eyes focused and sharp. Ken Ai was a young woman who had reached her early thirties, with short clipped hair that halted below her jaw line and who favored a daily diet of long-sleeved turtlenecks and jeans dyed a morose, dark color. She was not a pretty person, but underneath her normally frowning, sour visage, Ken Ai was rather attractive-looking.

Hatake Kakashi surveyed her as a slow grin spread across his first. He saw her muddy-blue eyes hiding behind thick, black-framed glasses and impulsively reached out to snatch it off her face.

She made a sound of shock and irritation, her hands jumping too late to snatch back her glasses. Blue eyes, dull and almost grey, glared at him with full force, the face twisting into a scowl; but Kakashi merely pocketed the glasses and returned to grinning at her.

"You're unbelievable," she shot at him. "But I'm _effective_." He countered back quickly, lips moving beneath his black mask, his eyes twinkling and teasing.

Ai's scowl lessened and she relaxed her posture. "Fine," she admitted grudgingly. Now she propped up one elbow on the table's surface and rested her chin into her open palm, her demeanor no longer as stiff and professional as it initially had been. "I sense this is leading to a deal." Kakashi leaned forwards, putting both arms on the white, plastic table. "You have sensed correctly," he affirmed.

There was a moment of staring, accompanied by a silent, playful tension as blue-grey eyes looked unflinchingly into brown. "Fine," she relented after a beat, but then her face morphed into a scowl, "I'll treat you to lunch, right here, and then you'll help me with my little… morgue situation."

Ai thought Kakashi would accept the deal, there and then, but to her surprise and utter irritation, he wagged a finger in front of her face teasingly, his eyes sparkling with a playful light. "Aah-ah. You're asking me to _flirt_ with the poor, poor nurse. I'm afraid that itself has a very high price."

Ai merely stared at him in shock, a little stunned at his rejection as thoughts whizzed and formulated in her mind. What could he possible want?

And then she saw the darker, more dangerous look in his eye, lust interwoven with light mischief and playfulness. It was a shadow barely there, a spark of black light, and her eyes widened. Oh, _oh_.

She glared. "No," she snapped, and then she rubbed her face with her hands in exasperation. "We're practically _living_ together, can't you do this for _me_? Please? Just this once?"

Please. She had never said 'please' in a pleading tone to anyone else ever before. Ever.

Kakashi merely smiled lazily, like the cat that ate the bird. "No," he drawled, and his grin was the most smug she had ever seen. He was enjoying this. Stupid shinobi.

"Fine," she relented, her shoulders sagging in defeat. As a consolation, he leaned further forward, and fast as lightening, pecked her softly on the lips. "Don't worry," he smiled as his long fingers pulled up his mask, "you'll enjoy it." Kakashi's eyes turned wicked, darkly wicked. "You always do."

Ai flushed. God, she hated shinobi.

~0~

Dinner had been a horrid affair. The whole thing had been a horrid affair.

She had spent three hours with pictures and blueprints spread across the table, shots of magnolia gorgeously interwoven with orchids and roses in full bloom among violets as Mitsuki in turn displayed pictures of color themes and large arches. Aburame Shino, Mitsuki's silent fiancée, hovered near her, listening to the conversation yet not partaking in it.

Ino had kept her eyes trained to the photos and papers on the table, flickering upwards to look into the faces of Mitsuki only when necessary. She could barely keep eye contact with her own client! The embarrassment of her little fainting episode combined with Uchiha Mitsuki's own vocalized concern tempted her to just bolt out of the door. A hundred things besides Mitsuki's wedding preparations were running through her head like skittering insects; her parents finding out about her sleeping pill dependence, the Hokage wishing to see her and Shikamaru.

Shikamaru. Even now, he invaded her thoughts like a disease. He was like mould, creeping up, hiding in plain sight, his presence so heavy and often in her mind that she barely knew what it was like to be free of his presence at all. Shikamaru. He lingered in her mind, a memory she could not store away, or freely discard. Even now she wondered, what was he doing? He was in Sunagakure, of course, but was he with Temari? Did he… did he miss her?

Hours passed, each second agonizingly slow in its own right. Uchiha Mitsuki, with her pretty warm eyes and shy smile finally chose the classic color theme of ivory and pale olive green, which besides symbolizing her transition out of Uchiha clan and into the Aburame, it cemented the couple's loyalty to Konohagakure.

It was a pretty political statement, Ino had to admit, to use on your own wedding.

Finally, the clock reminded them that it was nearing too late into the night, and Ino was finally allowed to gather her materials and tiredly shove them into her cloth bag. Outside, the sky was inky black and thick through the windows, smoke clouds hazing the diminished sickle moon as a cold breeze blew, hinting of frigid rain the next morning.

Mitsuki bid Ino her thanks, making appointments with Ino for the continuation of their discussion. She hid a small yawn behind her hand as Shino quietly led her away, throwing a shy smile over her shoulder at Ino before she left. Ino smiled hesitantly in return. Mitsuki was a lovely person with a good heart.

Mikoto stood in the space vacated by the couple, smiling kindly as she saw Ino's tired expression, her sky-blue eyes dazed and blinking blearily. 'Are you all right, Ino-san?" she asked, and Ino nodded heavily, thick yellow hair spilling over her shoulders. Mikoto was about to turn away when her eyes shifted to the shadows that shrouded the entrance of the hallway, and right on cue, Itachi emerged.

The Uchiha matriarch displayed her surprise by blinking once, mildly stunned before something akin to questioning dawned on her face. Itachi acknowledges his mother by briefly connecting dark eyes to dark eyes, before turning to face Ino, his face closed and guarded, onyx glass staring brightly out from a pale face.

"It's proper for me to escort you home."

And just like that, the polite statement, turned fact by his fathomless voice was made into a command and Ino's eyes widened as she felt his hold of command tighten like a sheet around her. The magnetism of command, a captain. She bowed her head like a dog and moved towards the door.

Over Ino's bowed head, Mikoto threw a look at her son who received it with indifferent acknowledgement, serving to make the dark glitter within her eyes flare into a dark ember. Itachi quickened his steps, a barely discernible twitch to his lips as he left a trail of teasing amusement in his wake. Mikoto only huffed.

That son of hers.

Night had sunk Konoha into the world of hushed breeze and the gentle whispers of rustling leaves, dipped in navy blue shadow and silvered with moonlight. It cloaked the houses in velvet sleep as the stars twinkled lonely and small in the sky, separated from each other by vast expanses of night-black. Itachi walked next to her, a thick pocket of air and tension that seperated the two of them as he walked not quite by her side. She looked down, half nervous to be so near the heir of Uchiha. Even though she felt the presence of night and cold air bullying out goose bumps on her skin more than anything, his presence was still a poignant sensation that brushed her skin and mind with anxiety and… fear.

Formidability. Cool wind whipped his raven locks about his pale, aloof face, chiseled with narrow cheeks and inset with eyes of charcoal that seemed to perpetually burn with smoldering flame. He walked with a sharp sense of purpose, of a heavy, important burden but his movements were tempered with grace and agility, cloaked in authority and that; formidability.

Ino's blue eyes shied away. He was magnetic, his aura of dark steel drew eyes, but it was his aloofness which made them shy away in nervousness.

She felt awkward, her body automatically edging away from him inch by inch, but he showed no reaction, no emotion. _So cold_ , Ino shivered, and immediately, she was reminded of warm skin and dark hair, lazy brown eyes and a mouth which, when pulled into a smile, meant more than anything in the world.

As always with him, pain lanced like cruel lightening through her chest, and her breath caught sharply in her throat.

"How goes your career, Yamanaka-san?"

The question was a lilt in the night, a muted break to the silence, but Ino's face snapped to face him as if he had yelled. He met her eyes with a calm expression, a polite query in his eyes.

She looked back out into the dark night. "It goes… well, I would say," the words tumbled in messy alphabets out her mouth, "I… I am chunin and when the time comes, I will take the test and make jonin. Until then, I– I…" she struggled to rein in her stutter and summon an answer. _Come on Ino, what do you want to do?_

 _I don't know._

The answer came as a startling realization that jolted her. She had never considered her career path.

How… How foolish.

"I'll… continue helping my father in both his work at Interrogations and the Flower Shop."

It sounded meek and unsure, and immediately she detested herself for it.

Itachi stared unnervingly at her from the corner of his dark eyes, his face closed off from all telling emotion, but he merely regarded her wordlessly. "I see," he said, after a beat, a swell of tense silence that passed between them. Then-

"I admit myself a little disappointed that Yamanaka-san does not look ahead in her ambitions."

It was a razor-cutting remark, not an admonishment nor a rebuke. It was uttered in such an off-handed, detached tone that it bordered on verge of insult and Ino, her dignity stung, snapped her sky blue eyes to his face, their suddenly icy depths clinging onto his own dark gaze.

"Excuse me," she asked coldly, her voice clear and imbued with hidden strength. Weariness and gray had been wiped clean off her face by righteous indignation.

"Must you be so burdened by the drama of your own life that you must nose into the business of my own?" Ino flung the sharp statement at him like a burning coal, and he responded accordingly by scorching his black eyes into her face and harshly flaring his chakra, the dark power like an oppressive suffocating cloak that tightened threateningly around her own. Ino flailed internally, struggling to reign in her own chakra to define her stand, but then, in a flash, his chakra was gone, and cool air flooded back into its place.

She sucked in a huge breath, sweat beading her forehead.

He stood there half a meter away from her, a hint of annoyance on his face. "Yamanaka-san, you are not acting very wisely for one with chakra exhaustion." Ino looked at him weakly, her visage now a pale, fading gray that accentuated the shadows that dipped between her eyes, sweat nor poured down her forehead as she hunched a little.

Chakra exhaustion. No wonder. As she bent over panting, her stringy hair slowly drifting down to cover her face, her blue tired, _tired_ eyes watched wearily as the emotionless Itachi merely looked at her with regard, like an ivory statue clothed in black. Something about that scene ate at her with fury, with disgust and pure, undiluted, _irrational_ rage. She was _angry_! At everyone! At the world! At Shikamaru, at Temari, at Mikoto Uchiha who disturbed her, for Sakura who inched further and further away from her, at Choji who had tried, _tried_ to be there for her but couldn't. She was ANGRY.

WHO WAS HE TO LOOK AT HER LIKE THAT?

"I am–" Ino spat as her eyes slowly turned glassy, straining to catch her breath while an unsympathetic Itachi loomed. "I am," she seethed, "pathetic, _alone_ , living my entire life in a lie where I thought I was _safe._ " The words rushed out of her mouth like a blast of hot sulfuric air, stinging her tongue with the bitterness of their tone as she struggled to pump out her rage through her breaking-down body. Finally, just _finally_.

Yamanaka Ino was finally breaking down.

"Lied to! I've been lied to. I've been _cheated_ , deceived, left deluded by my own stupid, _stupid_ little fantasy. I am _nothing._ I can't live up to my own family, I can't even," she choked out, tears catching in her throat as she sank further down to her knees. "I can't even make my own father proud," she gasped out as hot liquid finally spilled down her sallow cheeks. What followed next was mindless babbling as she started sobbing, for the first time, not for Shikamaru, but for _her_ , for what she had become.

Who was she?

* * *

 **2018~mockingtale**

Do you know what's ironic? I never _did_ get that scholarship. Instead I fell into a long depression, almost flunked out of school, had to keep moving in and out of different households and got diagnosed with ADHD. I _did_ get into that writing course... and it went nowhere. I stopped writing. Then I stopped reading. I took myself off social media. Stopped talking. Now I'm in a different country. In college.

Life is weird.


End file.
